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ClieXRIGHT DEPOSm 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 

A Play in three acts by 
A. E. Drinkwater J 



Birmingham * 

Cornish Brothers Ltd 

PubHshers to the University 

39 New Street 

1922 









Copyright 1922 by Albert Edwin Drink'water V 
All Dramalic Rights reserved by the Author 



PRINTED BY MOODY BROS., 
BIRMINGHAM 



JUL 2},m2i 



% 



f 



'Cl,D (J 154 2 



To 



THE CAPTAINS AND RANK AND FILE 
OF INDUSTRY 

To all, that is, who, in their several ways, 
contribute to the making of essential things 



' Oh, it is excellent 
To have a Giant's strength : but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a Giant.' 

Measure fur Measure, 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 

A Play in Three Acts 

TEliSONS OF THE TLAY 

BOB BRANDON 
ROBERT BRANDON 
ALAN BRANDON 
COWLEY SMITH 
DR. WELLS 
STEPHEN COLE 
TOM COPPOCK 
ALICE BRANDON 
JUDY BRANDON 

^cene - - cA small Industrial English Town. 

<:Act I. Boh 'Brandon s Qottage. 

August /^th^ 1 9 14. 
<^ct II. Tiohert 'Brandon s House. 

Decembery 19 19. 

eAct III. I{gbert Brandon s House. 

May 24//^, 1924. 



The Pipe of Peace 



ACT I. 

The scene is the living room in Bob Brandon's 
cottage, in a small industrial town. Most of the 
inhabitants are employed at the large factory, 
which is the most important feature of the place. 
Bob Brandon's home, which was his father's and 
his father's father's before him, is almost too sub- 
stantial to be called a cottage. It has half-a- 
dozen bedrooms and has, in past generations, 
accommodated moderately large families ; and 
there has been room enough for them to live 
decently and in comfort. For longer than can be 
remembered there have been Brandons working 
at the factory . They have done skilled work and 
earned fair wages. There is no family in the town 
that is better known, or more generally respected. 
Bob is seventy, but he still insists on going to 
work every day, and has still the reputation of 
being the best man in the factory at his ov^nm par- 
ticulEir job. 

The room is not a small one. It is furnished 
with good simple furniture, which originally cost 
little, but has always been taken care of. It is a 
beautiful, well-kept, scrupulously clean English 
cottage interior. 



6 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

There is a fireplace at the back. On the left, 
from the actor's point of view, there is a window, 
and below it a door opening on to the street. On 
the right there is a door leading to the kitchen, 
where, except on great occasions, all the meals 
are taken. 

It is the evening of August 4th, 1914. 

Bob is sitting in a comfortable chair, right of 
the table, reading the paper. 

There is a knock at the door. 

Bob : Come in. 

The street door opens, and Dr. WelLS is seen 
standing in the doorway, with a cheery smile on 
his face. He is a year or two younger than BoB. 
He is carelessly dressed in tweeds. At first sight 
he impresses you as a genial, lovable man; and 
further acquaintance always confirms the impres- 
sion. 

Bob : You, Doctor ! Come in . . . come 
along in. 

Dr. W. : How are you. Bob? He shuts the 
door and comes in. 

Bob : I'm getting on. When the sun shone 
this morning 1 walked to the top of the hill and 
back. 1 haven't missed a day at the works. 

Dr. W. : Capital ! He sits left of table. This 
isn't a professional visit. I dropped in for a chat» 

Bob : You're welcome. 

Dr. W. : May I smoke my pipe? 

Bob : Why, of course. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 7 

Dr. W. : Where's yours? BoB picJ^s up his 
pipe jrom the table. Fill up. He offers his 
pouch. 

Bob : Thank you, Doctor, but I like a whiff o' 
flavour in my baccy. He fills his pipe with shag 
jrom a finely polished old steel round box which 
he tak^s jrom his pocket. 

Dr. W. : All right. Stick to your shag, you 
old barbarian ! They light their pipes. 

Bob : You don't like shag? Queer, isn't it? 
Whenever we get together we get at cross pur- 
poses. He chuckles pleasantly. Do you remem- 
ber the first time? Fifty . . . fifty-three years 
ago ! 

Dr. W. (laughing): Was it? Fifty-three 
years, eh? What did we squabble about then, 
Bob? 

Bob : You were fishing, and 1 was coming 
home from work, by the river. 

Dr. W. : 1 remember. He chuckles. We 
argued about casts. You slipped off my fly, 
rummaged in my box, and whipped on another. 

Bob : And you lost your temper. Doctor, and 
threw down your rod, and shouted, ' If you know 
so much about it, you'd better fish yourself.' 

Dr. W. (laughing at the recollection) : And 
you did . . . and in ten minutes hooked the fish 
I'd been after all the afternoon. 

Bob : And 1 kept the fish . . . you made me 
... a pound and three-quarters, it was ... a 
beauty. Mother cooked it to a turn, and we had 
a grand supper. 



8 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Dr. W. : H . . . h . . . ha ! Do you remem- 
ber what you said, as you marched off along the 
bank? 

Bob {shaking his head) : N ... no. 

Dr. W. : * No sense in trying the Mayfly in 
June.' 

Bob : That's right, Doctor, that's right. And 
it's worth remembering by other folk besides 
fishermen. 

Dr. W. : I suppose so. You've got a wise old 
head. Bob. It does me good to have a pow-wow 
with you. Since I gave up practice . . . except 
for half-a-dozen incorrigible old cripples like 
yourself . . . 

Bob : 1 could never understand why you gave 
up. You're good for another ten years, or more. 

Dr. W. : I'm very well, thank God. You see 
I've set up my nephew. I want him to get on, 
and get all the work he can. His dear mother 
needs help . . . and he's talking of a wife. So 
it's best to leave it to him as much as may be. 

Bob : I see. I didn't rightly understand. 

Dr. W. : But I miss it. I'm a pretty lonely 
old chap. Bob. Most of my pals are gone . . . 
and I've no children. 

Bob (after a pause) : Children baint always a 
comfort to their fathers ... as you've only got 
to look down the street to see. Not that I've 
anything to complain of. I'm lucky. My boys 
and girl are all I'd have 'em be, thank God. 

Dr. W. : Any more news of David? 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 9 

Bob : A letter last night. It's settled. He's 
leaving Melbourne . . . going to Sydney. It's 
a lot better job, by all accounts . . . under the 
Government. 

Dr. W. : Good luck to him ! And Robert, 
he's making a name for himself. What's he at 
to-night? They say the People's Hall is cram- 
med, everybody from the works there . . . and 
Robert's been talking nearly an hour. 

Bob : Robert was always a great one for a 
speech . . , and a great reader. 

Dr. W. : He's wise; no friends like good 
books. I don't know what I'd do without them. 
What's he talking about to-night? Strikes? 

Bob : Not of Robert's making. Seems to me. 
Doctor, there's bigger things to call meetings for, 
and be making speeches about than what's doing 
at the works. It's no time for differences at home. 
He points to the newspaper. 

Dr. W. : You're right. Bob. There's mis- 
chief brewing in Europe, such as the world's 
never seen. 

Bob : So I think. He taJ^es o0 his spectacles . 
But nobody down here seems to know it, or 
believe it. Last night, at the Cap and Bells, they 
laughed at me when I said we might be at war 
within a week. 

Dr. W. : TTiat's England all over. Tlie Cap 
and Bells is England. We laugh, and say a 
thing's impossible, when we ought to be getting 
ready. 



10 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Alice comes in. She is a pretty, slender girl 
of twenty-one. 

Bob : Been to the meeting ? 

Alice : Good evening, Doctor. Yes, Dad. 

Dr. W. : But you don't work at the factory, 
my dear. 

Alice : No. She goes to work-table on right, 
iak.es out work, and sits. But I wanted to hear 
what . . . what they . . . what Robert had to 
say. 

Dr. W. : When I look at Alice, and at Robert, 
1 can hardly believe they're brother and sister. 

Bob (laughing) : I've often said the same. 
There's eighteen years between them. Robert's 
thirty -nine, and this baby's twenty -one. 

Alice (ajter pause) : Dad, I think there's bad 
news. There's all sorts of reports in the streets. 

Dr. W. : War news? 

Alice : Yes, Doctor. She stops work, ^^^ 
hands jail on her k^^^s, end she becomes Very 
thoughtful. Do you think it's true? She looks 
anxiously at the Doctor, who doesn't answer. 
Almost in tears. Oh, my God, if it is ! What 
shall we do ? 

Dr. W. : We'll hope for the best, my dear, 
till we know. 

Robert, Alan and Cowley Smith come in 
by door left. Alice puts her work away, and 
gets up. Robert and Alan hang up their 
hats, and CoWLEY his cap on pegs up left of the 
fireplace. Robert, aged thirty-nine, is a fine 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 11 

type of the skilled English workman, tall, rather 
stout, with a bright, intelligent face. Alan, 
about thirty, is a young parson ; he is tall, but 
slight. He is a young man of convictions, who 
has made his way into the church by his industry 
and ability. He is very simple, very pleasant, 
and likeable. CoWLEY, who is twenty -five, is 
a little rougher than the other two, slightly aggres- 
sive, but not unpleasantly so. ROBERT sits in 
arm chair left of fireplace. Alan stands on his 
right. Cowley goes over to chair right, near 
work-table, where ALICE was sitting. Later, 
after Alice has gone out, he sits there, turning 
the chair a little towards the others. There is a 
general interchange of nods, and * How do you 
do's?' 

Bob {as they come in) : Get a bit o' supper, my 
dear. 

Alice goes out by door right. 

Robert : How are you. Doctor? 

Dr. W. {he nods pleasantly to Robert; then 
turns to Alan) : You're looking well. Got your 
holiday ? 

Alan : We're putting in a quiet week with 
Dad; then we're going to the sea. Judy's fond 
of the sea. 

Dr. W. : Good judge. She well? 

Alan : Splendid. She'll be here directly. 

Dr. W. : Is there any news? 

Alan : War news ? 



12 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Dr. W. : Yes. Alice says . . . 

Alan : No, nothing clear . . . rumours, that's 
all. Judy's gone to Major Armstrcng's, to see if 
he knows anything. 

Bob {shaJiing his head) : I'm afraid ... I'm 
afraid . . . Pause. What did you do at the 
meeting, Robert? 

Cowley {with rather sullen enzphasis) : 
Nothing. 

Robert (firm, but not angry) : And you never 
will, till you learn to be fair to both sides. If 
we'd pulled together, we should have got all 
we've any right to ask, and masters and men 
good friends to the finish. But you, and your 
section, have inflamed the men, some of them, 
with wild notions. 

Cowley : You've no right to talk of wild 
notions, just because you don't see as far as we 
do. 

Robert : Cowley, my lad. i like you. You're 
going to marry Alice, and I want to . . . well, 
more than like you. But don't think you, and 
your set, have got all the sense. In days past 
Labour had two great enemies, their own deadly 
apathy, and the v/rong uns among the employers. 
They weren't all wrong uns. If w« could know 
the truth, I expect you'd find they were good, 
and bad, in about the ssme proportions as any 
other class. From all accounts, there was never 
anything to complain of here till Sir William died, 
and the factorj'' became a limited liability com- 
pany. Now, you've got rid of your apathy, and 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 13 

you've gone to the other extreme. It isn't merely 
unrest . . . it's a passion for unrest, and it's 
growing. 

Cowley : Thank God for it. 

Robert : It's not a blessing, altogether. It 
has brought into existence two new enemies of 
Labour . . . the fanatic, who means well, but 
sees red, and the scoundrel with no principle, 
who knows his living as a paid agitator, depends 
on lashing the men into fury. 

Cowley : There's things to be furious about. 
The manager should take back Arnold Penman. 

Alan : No, 1 don't agree, Cowley. I'm all 
for giving a man a second, and a third chance; 
but there's no prosperity in any factory if there's 
no discipline. 

Robert : Arnold's been on the wrong road for 
months. He's neglected his work, and the 
manager passed it over more than once. Last 
Monday he was half-an-hour late, and, when he 
did come, he was drunk. And the manager told 
him to clear out. 

Cowley : There ought to have been an 
enquiry. It was never proved. I don't believe 
he was drunk. 

Dr. W. : You don't want to believe it, Cowley. 
But you knov/ it's true, all the same. 

Cowley : Look here. Doctor. It's no good 
your putting in your spoke. Old folks don't see 
things in the same light. 

Dr. W. : Rubbish . . . trite rubbish, Cowley. 



14 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley : It's right. The old make the laws. 
The old perpetuate the customs of the past . . . 
and the young kick over the traces. It's natural. 

Dr. W. : It's natural for a colt to resent the 
bridle, but he's got to get used to it, if he's ever 
to do a horse's work, and earn his living. I'm 
not too old to be keen about the future, but I'm 
old enough to know I've blundered into a lot of 
mistakes. No, Cowley, you're wrong. It's 
good for the old to help the young to shape things. 
They're less likely to be swayed by what just 
concerns themselves, and not the community. 

Bob : That's right, Doctor, that's quite right. 
Cowley doesn't understand, but I do ... so 
would Alice. 

Cowley : What's Alice got to do with it? 

Dr. W. : What's Alice got to do with it^ 
Laughing pleasantly. Cowley, my son, I helped 
you into the world. 1 saw your mother die two 
years after. After your father's accident, for 
three months I tried to help him in his fight for 
life. You've had no parents since you were six. 
You've had a hard life, but you're made of fine 
stuff. If your hard life has twisted you a little, it 
hasn't spoilt you. 

Cowley (a little moved, but a little resentful} : 
I don't want to be patronized. Doctor. You mean 
well, but I don't like it. 

Dr. W. : But I've a great opinion of you, 
Cowley. 1 expect you to do something in the 
world. But you haven't come to wisdom yet. 
I said the young were apt to think too much of 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 15 

what concerns themselves, and not the com- 
munity. Bob understands ; he says Alice would 
understand. But you don't. You're Arnold 
Penmcin's champion because you've been 
brought up together, emd you're loyal to an old 
friend . . . and I'd say * Be damned to you if 
you weren't. ' What makes you twice as loyal is 
that Arnold wants to marry Alice, and she's 
chosen you. A mean chap would have joined 
the cry against Arnold, but you see less folly and 
more good in him than there really is. 

Robert : Arnold's not a bad chap, but he's 
got into a bad set. If he left the place and started 
fresh somewhere else, he'd be all right. But 
he's put himself in the wrong, and the demand 
that the manager should take him back is making 
the settlement of our difference impossible. 

Alice comes in by door right. She goes to 
her father, and puts her hands on his shoulders. 

Alice : Supper's ready, dad. 

Bob : Come, boys, eind have a crust. Come, 
Doctor. 

Dr. W. : I've had my supper, but I'll keep you 
company. 

Bob, Robert, Alan and the Doctor go off 
by door right. Alice is standing at the back of 
the chair right of table. CoWLEY is seated down 

right. 

Alice {after a pause) : Aren't you coming, 
Cowley ? 



16 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley : No, I told Mrs. Clay to get some- 
thing ready. He gets up. He comes close to 
her^ on her right; she looks up at him. He takes 
her face in his hands and J^isses her. 

Alice : I wish you and father and the boys 
didn't always disagree. 

Cowley : We don't. We all want to get to 
the same place, but we want to go by our own 
short cuts . . . and we can't agree which cut's 
the shortest. 

Alice : I'm sorry for Arnold Penman. 

Cowley : So am I, damned sorry. 

Alice : He's always so nice to me. I couldn't 
do as he wanted, but I like him. I think it was 
splendid of you to stand up for him at the 
meeting. 

Cowley : You didn't hear what the Doctor 
said. It's right, a good deal of it. It was, 
partly, because ... I knew you'd like it. She 
takes his hand and kisses it, and looks into his 
face. They stand quite still for a moment. She 
looks away from him, straight in jront oj her. 

Alice : Cowley ! 

Cowley : Yes. 

Alice (tears are coming, hut she fights against 
them): Do you . . . think it's true? She looks 
at him. 

Cowley : What they're saying . . . about 
war? She nods. It looks very bad. Pause. 
lt*s horrible men can't live in peace ! Every step 
we've taken towards progress . . . and better 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 17 

times ... all to go by the board. All men's 
worst instincts roused. 

Alice {smiling quaintly at him) : Cowley, you 
are funny . . . sometimes. 

Cowley : Funny ! Good Lord ! How funny ? 

Alice : What you said . . . about men living 
in peace. 

Cowley : What's wrong with my saying that? 

Alice : There's nothing wrong with it. Only, 
at the meeting, it's just what some of us thought 
about you all, when you were losing your 
tempers, and caHing one another names. 

Cowley (he turns from her, wallas a couple of 
steps away to the right, puzzled and thoughtful ; 
then back, to her. He speak.s very earnestly) : 
My God, little girl, 1 didn't know you could see 
things . . . like that. 

Alice : You are in earnest, Cowley . 
about everything . . . when you talk to the 
men . . . when you see something for the first 
time . . . SmJling ... as you did just now. 

Cowley : Alice, I . . . He is going to he Very 
much m earnest. 

Alice {holding up her face, and sm.iling ct 
him) : Kiss me. 

Cowley (smiling hadi; he is now very charm- 
ing; he kisses her) : V/hc wouldn't fall in love 
u'ith you . . . you little wonder ! 

Alice (teasing) : Why did you ? 

Cowley : I didn't mean to ... I meant net 
to ... 1 meant not to fall in lov-e with any 
woman. Getting serious again. I meant to be 



18 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

free to work for what seemed to matter most in 
the world ... to be free . . . and, then, if my 
way led to trouble, nobody else would suffer. 

Alice (nestling up to him; Very gently and 
sincerely) : If your way led to trouble, 1 shouldn't 
like not to suffer, too ... a little. 

Cowley (he tal^es her in his arms) : Alice, my 
dear, we'll do something in the world . . . you 
and 1. They hear the others coming hac\, and 
separate Very quietly. 

The door right is opened, and BoB, ROBERT, 
Alan and the DoCTOR are heard talking together, 
and laughing a little. They come in, talking as 
they come. Alan and the DOCTOR come first; 
the other two follow. 

Alan (as they come through the door) : Judy ? 
She said she'd come along. I'll go and find her. 
He tal^es his hat. Ashe is going to the door left, 
there is a ]inoc\. Alan opens the door, and 
speak.s to someone outside. Mr. Robert Brzin- 
don? Yes. He comes a step into the room. 

Alan lets in Stephen Cole; then goes out 
himself, and closes the door. STEPHEN is a 
rather delicate young man of twenty -eight, with 
a pleasant, intelligent face. Alice has gone to 
the chair left of the fireplace cmd is sitting. 
Cowley is standing on her right. BoB goes to 
the chair right of fireplace and sits. ROBEIRT sits 
at the right of the table, and the DoCTOR opposite 
to him at the left of the table. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 19 

Stephen (at the door) : Mr. Robert Brandon ? 

Robert : I'm Robert Brandon. 

Stephen : You won't know me. My name is 
Stephen Cole, i know your brother David, Mr. 
Brandon. 

Bob [very interested, and a little excited) : A 
friend o' David's? He comes behind the 
Doctor, and shakes hands with STEPHEN, 
Come in, come in, sir. 

Robert : My father, Mr. Cole. He also has 
risen, and stands by his chair right of the table. 

Stephen : I'm very glad to meet you, sir. 

Bob : You know David? When did you see 
him? Was he very well? 1 hear from him 
most weeks. He says he's well. 

Stephen : Very well, when I saw him . . . 
and prosF>erous. 

Robert (meeting him and shaking hands) : If 
you're a friend of David's you're very welcome. 
He gets the chair jrom near the small work-table 
right, and places it jor STEPHEN a little to the right 
and in front oj his own chair. BoB has gone back 
to his chair, and sits watching STEPHEN. As 
Robert sits again right oj table, he introduces the 
others. Doctor Wells, my sister Alice, Cowley 
Smith . 

Stephen (as he sits down after nodding to 
them) : I want some information, and 1 want your 
help, Mr. Brandon. 

Robert : Help? He looks at Stephen a little 
puzzled; it is clearly not material help he wants. 
What . . . what can . . . 



20 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Stephen : I was at your meeting. It interested 
me very much. But I noticed . . . I've noticed 
tKe same thing at many meetings, in different 
parts of the country , . . 

Cowley {a little suspicious) : Did you come to 
the meeting ... to report for some newspaper, 
or . . . 

Stephen : No, no. I've nothing to do with 
any paper. I came quite on my own account. 

Cowley : Well, let's know where we are. 
You're a stranger to us. 

Bob : Cowley, Cowley, he . . . 

Cowley : All right, Mr. Brandon. To 
Stephen. This meeting v/as for the men at the 
works. 

Stephen : Oh, I'm sorry. I saw a notice on 
the gate. If it was a private meeting, I apologize. 

Robert : No, that's all right. Nothing private 
about it. 

Cowley : Oh, no. Only, before anybody 
goes answering; questions about our business at 
the meeting, it's as well to know who we're talk- 
ing to. 

Stephen : I think that's sound. If it interests 
you, I can tell you all there is to tell about myself 
in a few words. 

Bob : No, Mr. ... 

Stephen : Cole. 

Bob : No, Mr. Cole, there's no occasion. As 
a friend of David's we're glad to welcome your 
and I'm sure, if Robert can be of any service . . . 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 21 

Robert nods, but Cowley does not exactly looJ^ 
approval. STEPHEN notes this. 

Stephen : Mr. Smith's right, Mr. Brandon. 
One has to be careful. 

Cowley {a little rebuffed) : So far as the meet- 
ing goes, if you're one of us ... if you earn 
your living with your hands . . . 

Stephen {with a rather sad smile, looking at 
his hands, which are delicate and fair) : 1 don't 
. . . now. With a playfully mischievous smile. 
Vm a capitalist . . . now. 

Cowley : Hm. I thought you were getting 
at us. 

Stephen : If by * getting at ' you mean that I 
have any unfriendly motive, you're wrong. I 
did once earn my living with my hands, but I 
had a long illness. 1 was on my back for a year ; 
and in that long year I read a great deal, and I 
thought a great deal. Amongst other things I 
hit upon a little, simple device for common 
domestic use. Pause. 1 thought much of the 
relations existing between employer and em- 
ployed. That has led me since to attend many 
meetings in different parts of the country, and in 
other countries. That's how I came to be at your 
meeting this evening. When I was able to leave 
my bed, 1 wondered what 1 could do for a li^dng. 
The doctors said it would be a lon<? time before I 
could work at my trade again. One morning I 
took my little model to my old employer. He 
thought well of it, and offered to buy it. 



22 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley : For a five pound note ; and he made 
a fortune out of it. 

Stephen : No, I'm not altogether a fool at a 
bargain, and he was not unfair. I sold on rea- 
sonable terms. He has to make it, and advertise 
it. I get a royalty on every one he makes. 

Dr. W. : Well, good luck to you ! 

Stephen : It's fairly successful. In the first 
six months I got seventy pounds, and it's been 
getting more and more. It may grow into some- 
thing considerable. So you see, I'm a capitalist. 
He sits bacl^, a little tired. 

Robert [after a short pause) : I don't quite 
understand. You said you wanted my help . . . 
and information. 

Alice (who has been interested in STEPHEN, 
and has been watching him) : We've just had 
supper; it's still there. Wont you have some 
ale, and bread and cheese . . . or a cup of tea. 

Stephen : No, thank you. It's very kind of 
you. I'm only ... a little tired ... I 
had rather a long journey to-day. I want you 
sometime, at your leisure, Mr. Brandon, to tell 
me something of local industries, and local con- 
ditions. I was greatly interested at your meeting, 
but 1 noticed one speaker after another took the 
same line . . . the same arguments ... a 
little worn, some of them. Except yourself, no 
one recognized there were two sides to the ques- 
tion. 

Cowley : There is only one side . . . that 
concerns us. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 2> 

Stephen : I was in the workshop from a boy ; 
so I know the worker's side. When you're in 
bed for a year, you see things from many points 
of view. I learnt more in Australia. They 
sent me there . . . doctor's orders, and business 
combined . . . To BoB. That's how I met 
your son, Mr. Brandon. 

Bob : Yes, you must tell me presently. I 
want to hear about David. 

Stephen ; One way and another 1 got to 
know things from the employers' point of view, 
as well as our own. If 1 may say so, Mr. Smith, 
I think you're wrong. In this matter, as in all 
others, there are two sides to the question. My 
business takes me all over the country. I hear 
all 1 can. You said to-night, the meeting Wcis 
adjourned till next Monday. 

Robert : We v/ant some more figures ; they 
weren't all ready to-night. 

Stephen : Will you let me come on Monday, 
and speak to the men . . . put both sides as 
fairly as I can. 

Cowley : That's no good. If you want to get 
a move on, you've got to see one side, and only 
one side. That's how all big things have come 
about. 

Stephen : Sometimes big things have only 
come after lamentable havoc and destruction. 
TTie world should grow wiser. Misunderstand- 
ing in the past has untold misery to answer for. 
It's worth men's while to understand one another 
better. 



24 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley : Yes, I dare say you mean all right. 
You called yourself a capitalist ; that was a joke, 
I suppose. Anyhow you've got into the way of 
seeing things from the point of view of capital. 
We don't want that at our meetings. We've no 
use for capitalists. 

Dr. W. : That isn't sense, Cowley; and 
you're too clever not to know it. Where there's 
industry, there's use for capital. 

Cowley : When it's needed, we'll find it. 
We don't %vant the kind o' capital that takes 
thirty or forty per cent. 

Stephen : Capital doesn't take thirty, or forty 
per cent. In isolated cases it may. It's not as 
though the capital of each enterprise were pro- 
vided by one individual, with no other interests. 
And it's not fair to assume that where it is, he is 
always grasping and unjust. In such cases, con- 
ditions of labour are often enlightened, and every 
encouragement is given to intelligent schemes for 
spending leisure pleasantly. 

Cowley : A trap. A blind. What's the 
result? In such places strikes are unheard of. 

Dr. W. : Is that very deplorable? 

Cowley : I don't want to argue. Capital's 
the curse of Labour. That's all there is to it. ! 
don't want any more arguments. 

Stephen : Arguments help, if they bring us 
nearer to truth. We can argue and differ, find 
still be good friends. 

Cowley : Well, you can argue. I'm going. 
He turns towards door left. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 25 

Alice : Don't go, Cowley, I don't want you 
to. I'm sure Mr. Cole likes to hear both sides; 
and I like to hear his, as well as yours. CoWLEY 
resumes his old position rather reluctantly. 

Stephen {rising) : 1 think it's I who ought to 
go. 1 hope you'll forgive me, Mr. Brandon, 
for coming unasked to your home, and talking 
so much. He says this Very pleasantly, With no 
trace oj resentment. 

Robert : No, no, don't go. Cowley's full of 
enthusiasm. But he only wants what all the rest 
of us want ... to make the best bargain we can 
for the men. 

Cowley (with a mild resentful outburst) : 
What is capital, when all's said? Capital 
doesn't make things. 

Stephen : It's one of the means without which 
things can't be made. It's easy (he sits 
again) not to think straight about capital. The 
source of capital is thrift . . . and capability. 
If we look for a self-respecting old age, and have 
any thought for our v/ives and children when Vv^e 
are gone, we must save. If we save, and want 
to make the most of our savings, we must invest. 
All the money can't be invested in trustee securi- 
ties ; they have no use for anything like all of it. 
So we put our money into industrial securities. 
Enormous sums that go to start industries don't 
pay a dividend for years, perhaps not at all. 
Sometimes you get twenty per cent., or more; 
sometimes you get nothing. Average it, and the 
investor doesn't get a big return for his money. 



26 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

You can't say to a man who has got a few pounds, 
or a few thousands to invest : 'If this thing pros- 
pers, you get five per cent, of the profits, or a 
little more, and the rest will be divided among 
the workers ; if it fails, you lose your money, and 
there'll be nobody to pay you back a penny of it.' 
Bring that proposition to a man who has saved 
money by hard work, and he won't look at it. 

Dr. W. : You wouldn't yourself, would you, 
Cowley ? 

Cowley : Let the workmen manage the 
industries, and they'll pay all right. 

Stephen : 1 wish we could rely on that. All 
over the country there are men who began in the 
shops, saved money, and started for themselves. 
Some succeed, some fail. 

Bob : Look at Joe Kennedy . . . that's what 
he did. Bankrupt in three years . . . now he's 
back at the bench. 

Cowley : Look at John Wharton . . . that's 
how he started. Now he's worth a hundred 
thousand ... so they say. 

Stephen : Would he find money to start you in 
business, Mr. Smith, if he v^'^asn't to get a good 
share of the profits? 

Dr. W. : He's right, Cowley. Whoever finds 
capital must have a sporting chance. There 
must be prizes as well as blanks. 

Cowley : What about land and houses? 
That's capital, in another form. 

Stephen : I've nothing to say for the man who 
owns half-a-dozen big estates, with big mansions. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 27 

and leaves them empty ten months in the year. 
Sometimes they realize their responsibilities, but 
the system's wrong. It's got to go . . . it's 
going. 

Cowley : It is, neck and crop. 

Stephen : But the man with one big house, 
and land round it is quite another thing ; and the 
man who owns a few houses, and takes the rents 
is another thing. It's not so very long since it 
was one of the commonest wayst of investing 
savings. The limited liability company is com- 
paratively new. 

Cowley : Seems, according to you, the 
world's full of kind-hearted people who are 
mostly thinking how they can do their neighbours 
a good turn. To some of us it seems full of folk 
trying to pick one another's pockets. 

Stephen : A man once had two pairs of spec- 
tacles. Through one he saw a pleasant, kindly 
world ; through the other he saw nothing but 
selfishness and roguery. But it was the same 
world all the time. Of course, we are all fighting 
for ourselves to a point ; there's no harm in that, 
if we fight fair. There are scoundrels in plenty, 
and when we catch 'em, let's rap their knuckles 
hard : they deserve it. What's wrong with 
capital and labour is that both approach a differ- 
ence with an obstinate determination to have their 
own way. 

Cowley : It's just fine talk, and leads nowhere. 
Capital for generations has got the best of Labour,. 



28 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

and it can't get out of the quarrel with clean 
hands. 

Robert : Cowley's right there, Mr. Cole. 

Stephen : I agree. 

Cowley : Oh, you do ! 

Stephen : Entirely. In the past Capital has a 
bad record. It paid too little, and got too much. 
Not in all cases, mind you. There are firms, 
generations old, that have little in their history to 
be ashamed of. But there is a black record. 

Cowley : Very well, then. 

Stephen : But things have been different, 
better in most respects, the last twenty years. 
Employers who are not willing to deal fairly with 
their men are not so many as they were. They 
admit wrong in the past, and are prepared to 
make amends. 

Bob: I'm with you there, sir; and, to my 
mind, there's nothing to be gained by for ever 
raking up old grievances. 

Robert : Father's right. Stand for what's 
just, and stand firm, I say. But you won't 
make a better bargain v/ith a man by abusing his 
father, and his grandfather. 

Cowley : Oh, that's all right. 

Stephen : We've a good deal in common, all 
of us, after all. 

Cowley : And a good deal of difference. 

Stephen {he rises, and shakes hands with BoB 
4ind Robert) : Good night, Mr. Brandon. Good 
night, sir. I'm much obliged to you for giving 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 29 

me so much of your time, and (laughing) letting 
me talk so much. 

Bob : Robert, why not ask Mr. Cole to come 
to the meeting next Monday. There can be no 
harm in the men hearing all sides. 

Robert : He's welcome, if he likes to come. 

Cowley : He can come to the meeting. 
Whether he speaks is for the men to say. It's 
their meeting, and they'll settle Vv-^ho they'll listen 
to. 

Robert : That's right. It's the men's 
meeting. 

Stephen : That's all 1 want. Thank you, Mr. 
Brandon. To the others. Good evening. 

Stephen goes out, by door left. 

Cowley (after a pause) : Look here, Robert, 
this is no good. Who is this chap, anyway? 
Why should he come to our meeting? What's 
he going to do between now and Monday ? Go 
to other factories . . . and unsettle the men . . . 
just making them wobble when what we want 
most is to make 'em stand solid ! TTiat's not 
leaving it to the men. We want no sort of inter- 
ference. 

Alice : Cowley, you really are funny. Three 
of the men who spoke at the meeting had never 
been in the place before. Why didn't you tell 
them not to interfere? 

Alan and Judy come in by door left. 



30 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Judy : Good evening, Doctor. Good evening, 
Cowley. To the others. Good evening. 

Dr. W. : Good evening, my dear. 

Alan : We've just come from Major Arm- 
strong's. He's had a telegram from London. 
It's decided. War is declared. 

Bob: War! 

There is silence for a few moments, while all 
realize the full force of Alan's news. Then 
Judy goes over to the chair right where STEPHEN 
has been sitting, and Alan goes over, and up 
to the right of the table to the back of his father's 
chair. 

Robert {slowly, and ajter another pause) : Are 
you sure ? 

Bob : War ! 

Alan : TTiere's no doubt. I'm afraid, none. 

Bob {ajter loo\ing at his sons, one ajter 
another) : It's a great . . . calamity, a terrible 
. . . misfortune. He is greatly affected. 
Alan quietly puts his hand on his jather's 
shoulder. 

Dr. W. : No, Bob, we won't say that. It's a 
grave responsibility. It would have been a 
calamity, if we had heard the call, and hadn't 
answered. 

Alan {ajter a short pause) : I met Arnold Pen- 
man. He was on his way to say good-bye to his 
mother. He's off by the six o'clock train in the 
morning to enlist. ' They've no use for me 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 31 

here. Til try my luck out there. I'm for Eng- 
land,* he said. 

Cowley and Robert look at each other. The 
Doctor watches them for a moment. 

Dr. W. : Good luck to him ! 

Robert : Good for Arnold ! 

Bob : God bless him ! 

Alan (coming down to Judy) : This will 
change our plans, Judy. There's other things 
than holidays to think of now. 

Robert : And other things than differences at 
home. 

Dr. W. : 1 must look up my kit. 

Alice : Doctor ! You mustn't think of it. 
You're too . . . 

Dr. W. : Too old? Old, be hanged. 1 was 
in Africa in ninety-nine, within a month of the 
start. 1 know my job. 

Cowley {he looJ^s at his watch; then goes to 
pegs up lejt, and taJ^es his cap) : Walk down the 
road with me, Alice. She goes to him as he 
comes down lejt a little. She lool^s into his face, 
and sees determination there. She is frightened. 
He puts his arm round her, and l^isses her. It 
can't be helped, old girl. I'm for England, too. 

Cowley and Alice go out together by door 
left. 

Robert goes down in front of table to door left ; 
opens it, cind looks out for a moment. The 



32 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

sound of distant shouts and cheering is heard. 
He closes the door. Alan and JUDY are right, 
she sitting, and he standing by her. 

Robert (as he closes the door) : Rough on little 
Alice. 

Bob has listened to CoWLEY and watched him 
and Alice together and as they went out. He 
is now watching ROBERT. He hears what he has 
just said, and looks from him to JUDY and Alan. 
Doctor West has risen, and is standing in front 
of the fireplace near BoB. BoB looks up at him, 
and pulls himself together. The DOCTOR takes 
out his pouch from his pocket, and fills up his 
pipe. Robert sits in chair left of table, very 
grave and thoughtful. 

Dr. W. {offering his pouch to Bob) : Fill up. 
Bob. 

Bob looks at him, but takes no notice of the 
ix)uch he is offering. Mechanically he takes his 
tobacco box from his pocket, and fills his pipe as 
he looks from ROBERT to AlaN. The DcCTOR 
has lighted his pipe, and gives the lighted match 
to Bob. 

Bob {as he takes the lighted match; almost 
inaudihly) : Thank you, Doctor. 

The Curtain Falls. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 33 

ACT II. 

The scene is a room in RoPERT BraNDON's 
house. Robert now fills a responsible position 
at the works. He has also become a man of 
importance in the little town, and has recently 
completed a year of office as Mayor. His house 
is a simple, but quite substantial one. 

There is a lighted fire on the right, a well- 
stocked bookcase in the centre of the back wall, 
and a door leading to a small hall down left. 
There are arm chairs above and below the fire, 
and another between them, a table in the centre 
of the room, with chairs at the back and at each 
end. There is another chair up left, and a small 
sofa above the door. 

It is a December evening in 1919. 

When the curtain rises, there is no one on the 
stage. Voices are heard outside the door left, 
mingling v/ith Robert's : 'Good night, Robert.' 
'Good night, Mr. Brandon.' Good night, sir.' 

Robert (heard speaking in the hall) : Good 
night, William. Good night. Good night, 
Wilson. 

The street door is heard to shut. RoBERT 
comes into the room, and closes the door. He 
collects sheets of paper, and a newspaper from 
the table, round which they have been holding a 
meeting, and puts them in the drawer of the 
bookcase. This piece of furniture consists of a 
l)ookshelf, a drawer, and a cupboard combined. 



34 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

He closes the drawer with a sigh of satisfaction. 
He takes a book from the bookshelf, sits in a com- 
fortable arm chair above the fire, and settles him- 
self, with evident pleasure, to read. After some 
moments the front door bell is heard. ROBERT 
remains seated until BoB and the DOCTOR come 
in. 

Bob is appreciably older, but serene and cheer- 
ful. The Doctor looks younger, in spite of the 
five intervening years. He has been doing fine 
work in France. Interest in his work, an active 
life, and the open air have made him more vigor- 
ous. 

Robert (rising) : Good evening. Doctor, 
Come and sit in the arm chair, father. 

Bob who has come in first goes over to arm 
chair above fire, and sits. 

Bob (as he goes to his chair) : You look tired, 
my boy. 1 suppose you've been working all day^ 
and half the night, as usual. 

Dr. W. (as he goes to arm chair below fire) : 
Yes, you obstinate, old contradiction . . . 

Bob : No, Doctor, Robert's not that . . . not 
obstinate . . . never was. 

Dr. W. : He's the most . . . 

Bob : No, 1 won't have it. He's . . . 

Robert (laughing) : You two, wrangling again. 

Dr. W. : I'm right. You are an obstinate old 
contradiction. You talk about men not working^ 
more thein forty -eight hours a week, or whatever 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 35 

it is, and you do twelve hours a day yourself. 
May I smoke my pipe ? 

Robert : Why, of course. 

Dr. W. : Fill up, Bob. He offers his pouch. 
Bob look.s at him, gets pipe from his pocket, ta\es 
the Doctor's pouch, and fills. Robert holds a 
light for him, and he smokes. The DOCTOR takes 
back his pouch, and offers it to ROBERT. 

Robert : No, thank you. Doctor. As Dad 
used to say, I like a whiff o' flavour in mine. He 
puts down his book on the table, and fills his pipe 
jrom his tobacco jar. 

Dr. W. : All right. Stick to your shag. Bob's 
getting civilized. He's cultivated a taste in 
tobacco. He sits down, and lights his pipe. 

Bob : It isn't my taste. Doctor, it's my stomach. 
I've got to humour it now-a-days. 

Dr. W. : I see they've been at you again. We 
saw them leaving the house. 

Bob : Have they persuaded you to change your 
mind? 

Dr. W. : I hope so. You've been the best 
Mayor the town's had in my remembrance. 
There's no chance of Lawton going on. He's a 
sick man; he must go South for the Winter. 
You ought to take office again ; nineteen-twenty's 
going to be a difficult year. 1 hope they made 
you see that. 

Robert : Not quite. It's too big a thing to 
decide in a minute. I must think it out. 

Dr. W. : Then it's settled. You're sure to 
think straight, and see what's right. 



36 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Bob : I can't think as clear as I did. My first 
wish was you should get a rest from the work and 
worry. But the Doctor's right. There's diffi- 
cult, troublesome times before us. 

Robert : What '11 you have, father, after your 
walk? A drop o' whiskey, or . . . 

Bob : I'd sooner have a glass o' beer. It suits 
me best. 

Robert goes out. 

Bob : Can't keep this plaguey stuff alight. The 
Doctor lights a match and gives it to him. Not 
so bad, when it's fair started . . . the job is to 
start it. The DOCTOR laughs at him. 

Robert comes back with a brown earthenware 
jug of beer, and three glasses. He pours out a 
glass and gives it to BoB. 

Robert : What's yours, Doctor? 

Dr. W. : Whiskey. Just a thimble, and 
plenty of water. ROBERT gets a decanter of 
whiskey jrom the cupboard under the bookshelf, 
and pours out a glass jor the DOCTOR. There is 
a water bottle on the lower part oj the bookcase. 
The drawer and cupboard project in front of the 
bookcase and form a shelf. ROBERT then pours^ 
out a glass of beer for himself, and sits at the back 
of the table. 

Dr. W. : Stephen Cole walked into my place 
to-day. He's making another round. Do you 
remember him? 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 37 

Robert : Well. I liked him. What beats 
me is how he ever managed to get into the army 
at all . . . much less stick it to the end. 

Dr. W. : Cole's one of the Medical Board's 
blessed mistakes. According to schedule he was 
clean outside the limit, and they ought to have 
been courtmartialled for potential manslaughter 
when they let him through. But he meant 
getting there . . . and he got there. And, by 
George, he did his bit. He's got a brain, that 
chap. I met him three or four times in France. 
Pause; he listens. There's your 'phone, Robert, 

Bob : Seems to be always going. 1 couldn't 
bear one o' them things in my house. 

Robert goes out. 

Bob {looking round to see ROBERT has gone, 
and that the door is shut) : I'm veiy proud o' 
Robert, Doctor. 

Dr. W. : You're right to be. 

Bob : But I'm anxious about him, too. 

Dr. W. : Works too hard? 

Bob : 'Tisn't only that. He always worked 
hard. When he was the only one at home, he 
worked harder than ever. Then, when poor Mr. 
Charles was killed at Hill 60, and old Mr. Car- 
dew was all there was left of the old firm and he 
asked Robert to take over the whole control of 
the workshops, he was at the factory day and 
night. And he had a worrying job, Doctor. He 
always did fair by the firm, but he never forgot 



38 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

he was one o' the workers. They came first in 
his thought. 

Dr. W. : I'm sure they did. 

Bob : It isn't only the work, now. No matter 
how hard he was at it, Robert used to be content 
and happy. He isn't now. 

Dr. W. : He seems anxious at times . 
I've noticed that . . . but not unhappy. 

Bob : He could never quite bring himself to be 
patient about being sent home, when he hadn't 
been three months at the front, and told he'd 
never be fit to go back. 

Dr. W. : Rheumatic fever's a troublesome 
thing. A man has to be careful, after that, when 
he's in sight of forty years. 

Bob : I know. He had the sense to know it, 
too. But it troubled him. Then poor little David, 
that hit him badly ... it did us all . . . but 
now it's something . . . something not going as 
he wants ... 1 don't know justly what it is . . . 
and he frets about it. I know. I can see. 

Dr. W. : You're a queer old chap. Bob . . . 
God bless you ! You worry over these boys of 
yours, like a mother. 

Bob : It's twenty years, come Christmas, since 
they had a mother. Doctor. 

Dr. W. : I know. I know. Pause. Cheer- 
fully, making a fresh start. When does Alan 
move to his new job ? 

Bob : Next month. It's a great change. All 
his life among his own people ... to a great 
church, in a great city. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 39 

Dr. W. : He won't stop there either, all his 
life. He's for London before he's done. He'll 
have his name in the papers some day. 

Bob : God's been good to me. They've pros- 
pered, and all spared to me . . . but David. 
There are tears in his voice. 

Dr. W. : He made a good end, old friend ; 
there's that to be proud of. 

Bob : 1 know. 1 am proud of that, but . . . 

Robert comes back. He sits again in chair 
behind table. 

Robert: It's Cowley; they're just coming 
along. 

Dr, W. : He and Alice were busy in their gar- 
den, when 1 passed. They've done wonders . . . 
making quite a show. 

Bob : Alice didn't take much heed o' garden- 
ing, before she was married. 

Robert : It's Cowley's hobby. Alice has 
taken to it. 

Dr. W. : Wise wife ! He rises, and goes to 
the right top corner oj the table, and picks up the 
book Robert has placed there. He is standing 
a little to the right oj ROBERT. Fond of Gold- 
smith, Robert. You were reading him when 1 
was here last week. 

Robert : Yes, 1 like him, he's restful. I've 
been feeling sometimes, lately, I'd like to take a 
stout stick, hitch on my bundle, and tramp 
through Europe, as he did. 



40 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Dr. W. {reading from a page oj the book ^i 
which, it is already open. ROBERT has placed it 
on the table, open, with the printed page next to 
the table) : 

* From Art more various are the blessings 

sent, 
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, con- 
tent; 
Yet these each other's powers so strong 

contest, 
That either seems destructive of the rest. 
Where wealth and freedom reign, content- 
ment fails. 
And honour sinks where commerce long 
prevails.' 
Is that your mark against the passage, Robert? 

Robert : Yes, a long time ago. It always 
puzzled me. I begin to understand it now. 

' Where wealth and freedom reign, content- 
ment fails.' 
You got it when you read it. 1 suppose it means, 
we're never satisfied, or likely to be. 

Dr. W. : That's about it, Robert. He reads. 

* And honour sinks where commerce long 

prevails. ' 
It's often true; not always, thank God. 

Robert : No, not always; but often enough 
to be the explanation of industrial v/ar, three 
times out of five. 

Dr. W. : Oliver was a great chap for packing 
the heart of a truth in a phrase. There's two 
more lines worth remembering. They'd save a 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 41 

lot of grousing. He turns over two pages and 
reads. 

' For just experience tells, in every soil. 
That those who think must govern those 
that toil.' 

Robert : Yes, that's true, too. 

Dr. W. : Oh, he was a great chap. He puts 
down the book.. 

Robert : You gave me that Book, Doctor. 

Dr. W. : Idid? 

Bob : Yes, I remember that. It was in eighty- 
seven. Robert was twelve. He'd helped a bit, 
when half the men were down with fever, and 
there was a kind o' panic. They closed the 
works. Robert ran errands . . . did what he 
could to help. 

Dr. W. : He helped to save lives. 1 remembe r 
1 remember. 

Cowley comes in. He looks extraordinary fit. 

Cowley : How are you, father? Good even- 
ing. Doctor. To Robert. Good evening. 
Bob : How are you, my boy? 
Robert : Glass of beer, Cowley ? 
Cowley : No, thank you. 

Robert puts whisky decanter into cupboard, 
beer jug, water bottle and glasses on to bookshelf. 
Bob and the DOCTOR have put their glasses on to 
mantel shelf. 

Dr. W. : Where's Alice? 



42 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley : She ran into Mrs. Patten's. She's 
sick . . . quite sudden, I think. 

Dr. W. : Mrs. Patten? 

Cowley : Her girl's been ailing for a week ; 
now she's down. 

Dr. W. : I never knew. They didn't send 
word. I'd better go along. 

The Doctor goes out. 

Bob ; I'm afraid there's a deal o' sickness in 
the town. 

Robert : I'm afraid there is. 

Bob : Poor things ! It's the want o' proper 
food. They can't get it. How can they? 
Pause. Robert looks worried; CoWLEY very 
serious, but determined. CoWLEY sits in chair 
left of table. 

Cowley : Stephen Cole's in the town. 

Robert : So I hear. 

Cowley : He was talking to the men in the 
yard. Have you seen him? 

Robert : Not since nineteen fourteen. The 
Doctor says he met him in France : did wonders 
there, by all accounts. 

Cowley : That's right. He's a good chap. 
But we don't want him here. There's trouble 
enough before us, as it is. 

Robert : Seems, Cowley, these times, there's 
always trouble before us. 

Cowley : What line are you taking? We 
ought to know. The men won't go back till the 
masters give in. You know that. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 43 

Robert : Do you think war time wages can 
go on always ? 

Cowley : Why not? The heads of depart- 
ments are all on our side. 

Robert : I know. 

Cowley : You chose the men. You put them 
there. 

Robert : Yes, I know. 

Cowley : Tom Coppock's here, too. He 
might do a lot of good . . . stiffen the men. 

Robert : Tom gets about. 

Cowley : That's what he's paid for. 

Robert : He earns his money. Tom's 

got a way with him with the women 

in particular ... so they say. 

Cowley : What do you mean? 

Robert : The women have got something to 
do with it, haven't they? Tom knows it helps 
to have the women on his side. 

Cowley : The women are all right. 

Robert : Yes. Get 'em together, they're 
solid enough ; but they don't tell quite the same 
tale at home. 

Cowley : You don't understand 'em, Robert. 
You're not married. 

Bob : Robert's right. 1 hear things. 

Robert : I know Alice is firm enough ; taken 
to talking to the women herself, hasn't she? 

Cowley {after a pause) : Now and then. 

Robert : Speaking to-morrow, I hear. 

Cowley {surprised, but trying not to show ff) : 
Where? 



44 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Robert : Lower town, the girls' club. Tom's 
in the chair, isn't he? Thought you knew. 
Cowley : Something just settled, I suppose. 
Robert : Very likely. 
Bob : Judy was saying so, at tea time. 

Cowley, a little uneasy, gets up, walks up to 
the back on the left of the stage, then down to the 
lower end of the sofa, where he sits. 

Alan and Judy come in. Both look tired. 
Alan says ' Good evening.' JUDY nods to 
Robert and Cowley, and goes over to the fire, 
where she sits in the chair to the left of BoB. It 
is not an arm chair. 

Bob (looking at Judy) : You're tired, my dear. 
There is a moment's silence; then JUDY, after a 
struggle, buries her face in her hands and sobs. 
Pause. Don't cry, my dear, don't cry. What is 
it? Robert comes to her and puts his hand 
affectionately on her shoulder. Alan, who is up 
left, is watching. 

Alan : She's been with me on my rounds. 
She begged to come. She's been a great help. 
He crosses to the arm chair below the fire and 
sits. He touches JUDY affectionately as he passes 
her. 

Judy {taking Robert's hand, which is still on 
her shoulder) : Can nothing be done, Robert? 
It's five weeks since the strike began . . . and 
no sign of the end. The shops say they can't 
give credit any more. How can they? TTie 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 45 

children are crying for food. The women are 
starving. They are wonderful . . . but they 
can't go on. Can nothing be done? 

Robert : It's very difficult, my dear. There's 
a meeting to-morrow. Please God, some good 
may come ot it. 

Judy : Try. Try. Everybody trusts you, 
Robert. Oh, 1 know they are obstinate, both 
sides . . . but try, Robert, try. 

Robert : 1 shall, my dear. 

Alice and Tom Coppock come in. Tom is 
twenty-six ; he is six feet high , with fair curly 
hair, and a fair moustache. He is a working 
man, but he is by far the handsomest man in the 
play, and the most distinguished in appearance. 
Alice is in a state of controlled, but intense 
excitement. There is something of hero worship 
in her look and manner, as she follows ToM with 
her eyes. ToM shakes hands with ROBERT, nods 
to the others, and sits at the top of the sofa, on 
Cowley's right. Robert goes back to his chair 
at the back of the table. CoWLEY has watched 
Tom and Alice as they came in ; and it is clear 
that he notes and is puzzled by Alice's interest 
in Tom. Alice has taken off her hat and placed 
it on chair up left. She goes behind table, and 
sits in chair right of table. 

Alice (to Cowley, as she goes to her chair) : 
Tom's been wonderful, Cowley. He's been from 
house to house all day till he went to the yeird to 
sp)eak to the men, and he's been to more houses 



46 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

since. Twelve hours, and hardly given himself 
time for a bite and a cup of tea. CoWLEY looks a 
little uncomfortable as ALICE tells of ToM*S 
doings. Tom is also a little embarrassed and not 
pleased at Alice's praise. 

Cowley : I don't see the sense o' that. He 
looJ^s at Tom. Fighters must keep fit ... as 
he ought to know. We learnt that plain enough 
over there. 

Judy {slowly looking round at Tom) : Are you 
a fcinatic, Mr. Coppock? 

Tom: a fanatic? I, Mrs. Brandon? No. 

Judy : I thought, perhaps, you were. 

Tom : Why? 

Judy : What Alice said . . . about your 
food. She gets up and jaces the company. Do 
you know there are sick women starving . . , 
and pretending they get plenty to eat? — ^because 
they are too proud to tell the truth . . . afraid to 
do anything to make it more difficult for their men 
folk? 

Alice : And they're fine women, too . . . 
good luck to 'em. 1 wish I'd done as much. 

Judy : Yes, they are, fine. 1 honour them. 
But I pity them . . . and I want to punish the 
men who make them suffer so. 

Tom : Who are they, Mrs. Brandon? 

Judy : I don't know. I wish I did. Nobody 
seems to know. 

Tom : I know. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 47 

The front dcx)r bell rings. TTiere is a pause. 
Stephen Cole comes in. He shakes hands with 
the women, nods to the men on the sofa ; shcikes 
hands with ROBERT, and sits left of the table, on 
Robert's left. 

Cowley : Go on, Tom. Tell her, and tell 
him. He indicates STEPHEN. 1 don't think he's 
quite clear about it. 

Stephen: Clear about what? 

Alice : Judy was asking who are the men 
who've brought about this trouble. Why the 
women and children are starving. 

Stephen : The men are stetrving, too. 

Alice : Oh, I know. They don't shirk their 
shcure. 

Judy : But it's worse for the women . . . 
worst of all for the young mothers, and little 
children. 

Alice : Tell 'em, Tom. 

Tom : They don't want telling. It's clearer 
than sunlight. Everybody knows . . . but those 
who won't know. It's the rotten system every- 
thing in England's run on. He speaJ^s with 
intense conviction, and his earnestness grows as 
he goes on. It's the struggle to death between 
the few who get all the money, and the millions 
who do all the work. 

Cowley : That's right, and there's no answer 
to it. 

Stephen : Is it just as simple as all that? 



48 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Judy : If the world's unjust . . . it is in many 
ways . . . get new laws made. 

Tom : Damn the laws. They're not made by 
working men. Damn the laws, I say. TTiere's 
a shorter way than that. We shan't wait for new 
laws. 

Stephen : Damning the laws won't help us, 
Tom. A wise man once said : * The law is 
greater than the men who make it. TTie wisdom 
of the East, the genius of Athens, the modern 
sense of righteousness are in it.' The law 
changes, but its essence has lasted through cen- 
turies . . . and will last. 

Tom : That's lawyer's talk ; it's no good. 
We mean what we say, no less, and we're going 
to settle it. There's no time for more argument. 
There's too much fire under the pot. 

Stephen : And what are you doing towards 
settling it, Tom? What's your job? Did you 
help to lay the fire? — or did you set a match to 
it, and stir it up? 

Tom (He rises, angry, but, with an effort, he 
controls himself, and sits down again. He never, 
for a moment, loses his dignity) : I'm not going 
to be cross questioned by you. I say, damn the 
laws . . . and damn the cowards who hold 
back. 

Judy : We're guests here, Mr. Coppock. 
Let's pretend to be civilized. She sits down. 

Tom {rising again in anger) : I . . . 

Robert : That's all right, Judy, my dear. 
That's all right, Tom. Say what you like. ToM 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 49 

sits again. You're like the rest of us, I suppose, 
you just want to do all you can to help the men ; 
and to find out the wisest way to set about it. 

Tom : Yes, I want to help the men. 

Cowley : We want fair play. We don't 
mean to do all the v/ork, and let others get all the 
plunder. 

Tom : Plunder . . . that's right . . . that's 
the word . . . plunder. 

Stephen : You want fair play. Everybody 
worth considering does. You're going to talk to 
the men to-morrow. You want fair play. Then, 
put the case fairly. Don't for a moment lose 
sight of the men's interests. Put your point of 
view. But tell them there are thousands of 
working men, men with brains as good as yours, 
vv^ho believe that you and your friends are doing 
a great injury to the working man, and not help- 
ing him. If you want fair play, put that to them 
very clearly ; you know the arguments on their 
side, as well as yours. And let the men decide 
for themselves. 

Tom : 1 knov/ what fair play is, and 1 don't 
want you to tell me. And 1 know what we mean 
to get . . . mean to get, mind you. And the 
men don't go back with less ... no less by a 
penny in pay ... no less by a line in condi- 
tions. 

Stephen : Then the other point of view 
doesn't interest you. 

Bob : Let Mr. Cole put the other point of view. 
I'd like to hear. 



50 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Tom : I came here to fetch Cowley, to settle 
things for to-morrow's meeting, not to be taught 
my job. He gets up, and moves towards the 
door. 

Alice : Let him say what he wants to say, 
Tom. Trust you to answer him back, and come 
out best. Tom sits reluctantly. 

Robert : There's no harm, Tom, in hcciring 
what any man has to say. It settles nothing, and 
binds nobody. 

Bob : Now, Mr. Cole. 

Judy : I'd like to hear, too, Mr. Cole. 

Stephen : Let's take wages first. It's no use 
telling us what people could get in a perfect 
world. It's not a perfect world ; it's just a good 
and bad world. And the wise man welcomes 
the good and makes the best of it ; and keeps a 
sharp look out for every chance to mend the bad. 
It's no use saying men and women would all be 
good, if the conditions were what they should be. 
It's the nature of men and women to be 
good and bad. It always has been so; I'm 
afraid it always will be. The useful thing is to 
see things as they are ; to face them squarely, and 
make the best of them. I don't mean put up 
with things as they are ; but mend them till they 
are as good as we can make them. That's true, 
right through ... of all economic questions, as 
of everything else. For instance, it's folly to 
forget that England's an island, and that there 
are many things we want badly that other 
countries can send us better than we can make 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 5\ 

them, or grow them. And it's no use forgetting 
that Britain is a great Empire. . . . 

Tom : It's got no right to be. 

Stephen : That may be. I don't contradict 
it; and I don't altogether admit it. Anyhow, 
there is the fact. Britain is a great Empire. And 
if you know anything of the people of the Empire 
... all classes in all countries . . . you know 
it's just futile to expect that she will ever surren- 
der her place as a great Empire as long as she can 
hold on. 

Tom : When the voice of the people is heard 
everywhere, as it is already in some places, the 
countries that have grabbed the wealth of other 
countries, and made their workers slaves, will 
soon find that they can't hold on. Then there'll 
be freedom, freedom worth the name, every- 
where. 

Alan : We're learning, in these days, Mr. 
Coppock, that Empire can go hand in hand with 
freedom. 

Stephen : Freedom doesn't mean isolation. 
You want a working agreement with your neigh- 
bours in the street, and their goodwill, if you are 
to prosper, or even get the pleasant courtesies of 
life. Every country wants the goodwill of neigh- 
bour countries. That's truer of England than 
most, because it is an island ; we want the good- 
will of countries across the seas, or we shall go 
short of supplies. That's just a fact ; and there's 
nothing for it but to take it into account. 



52 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Tom : It's no use blithering about goodwill, 
when one man gets a thousand a week, and half- 
a-dozen houses, and another hasn't got a roof 
to cover him. 

Alice : Answer that, Mr. Cole, if you can. 

Cowley : He can't, nobody can ; there's no 
justice in it. 

Stephen : No. That's quite true. There is 
no justice in that; and, by now, the world has 
recognised that there is no justice in it. But it 
is just worth while to recognise the difficulty. You 
complain, because others have got what you 
haven't . . . something that, however they 
came by it, belongs to them. In principle it 
would be the same thing if a man with no coat, 
or with only one, complained of injustice because 
you've got three coats. Isn't it because of this 
underlying principle that to put things right is 
not the work of a day, or a year, or of ten? The 
point to grasp is that we are doing something 
towards it. You'll help nobody by going to the 
opposite extreme and telling men and women to 
expect equal wealth and prosperity ; unless you 
tell them at the same time that if they want to 
climb the ladder, they must have the grit and wit 
to climb better than their neighbours. Equal 
education, equal opportunity there ought to be ; 
fight for that for all you're worth . . . but, 
roughly speaking, even with equal chances the 
best men will get to the top of the ladder, and 
some of us must stand at the foot, and help to 
hold it up. Envy is the the vice of fools ; and 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 53 

even failure has its compensations. The true 
wisdom is to help men to better themselves, and 
give up grousing for what they haven't got the 
wit to get. 

Cowley : We want fair pay for fair work. 

Stephen : If that's all you want, you ought to 
get it ; and you will. But you can't settle wages 
in England as if England were all the world. We 
must be able to compete with foreign markets ; 
we must be able to produce as well, and at the 
same price, as other countries. 

Tom : You don't seem to begin to know what 
we're after. We mean wages to go up every- 
where, in every country as well as England ; then 
there'll be no cutting in the markets, prices will 
level up, or down, everywhere, whatever the 
source of the article. 

Stephen : Ah, that's fine. If you can achieve 
that, you'll make a better world. But can you? 
It won't come yet. If a man's got more food than 
he can possibly eat growing within ten minutes 
of his back door, you'll generally find he's willing 
to accept a lower wage than the man whose din- 
ner comes thousands of miles from cattle ranches 
in Colorado. If a man's got more timber than 
he can ever use growing in his back garden, he 
can make cheaper boxes than the man who has 
to fetch his planks four thousand miles from 
Canada and Russia. You've got to go a long 
way, and wait a long time before you can per- 
suade everybody to forego the advantages of a 
fertile land, and a virgin soil. 



54 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Tom : That's it. We are going a long way ; 
and we are not going to wait a long time. 

Stephen : I wish you luck. But while you're 
squabbling over the way to get there, don't lead 
men into a blind alley. Tell them to stand out 
for a living wage, a good living wage, with a 
margin for the savings bank . . . there can be 
that, as things are now, for everybody ; but tell 
them to reckon with things as they are . . . tell 
them they must produce at the same cost as other 
countries . . . until you've changed the world. 
That means the maximum wage is beyond our 
control, and depends on the selling price in other 
countries. If you can produce a better article, 
you can demand your own price, within reason : 
but nobody is going to give you half-a-crown for 
what he can get for two shillings across the street. 

Judy : You wouldn't do that yourself, would 
you, Mr. Coppock? 

The telephone rings. 

Robert : See who it is, Alice. 

Alice goes out. 

Tom {after a pause) : We'll get on, Cowley. 
There's a good bit to do for the meeting to-mor- 
row. Good evening, Mr. Brandon. Good even- 
ing, Robert. Good evening. 

Tom and Cowley go out. 

Bob {after feeling in his pocket) : I want a 
match. Have you got one, Alan? AlaN is sit- 
ting deep in thought, and doesni notice. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 55 

Judy : Alan, dear, father wants a light. 

Alan {going to Bob) : I beg your pardon, 
father. He gives him a match-box jrom. his 
pocl^et. Bob relights his pipe. 

Bob : Thank you, my boy. To Judy. Thank 
you, my dear. 

Alice comes back. 

Alice : It's Doctor Wells. Mrs. Patten's very 
ill indeed. She'd like to see you, Alan. 
Alan : I'll go. I'll go at once. 
Judy : I'll come with you, dear. 

Alan and Judy go out. 

Alice {looking round}: Where's Tom? and 
Cowley ? 

Robert : They're gone, Alice. I expect 
you'll find them at home. 

Alice : Oh. 

Bob : I'll go home, too. To Alice. We can 
go together, my dear. Good night, Robert. 
Good night, Mr. Cole. 

Robert and Stephen : Good night. 

Alice has put on her hat. ShE and BoB go 
out. 

Robert and Stephen have risen. Robert 
goes to armchair above fire and sits. STEPHEN 
sits in armchair below fire. They light their 
pipes. For a moment they are silent. 

Stephen : You've had a difficult time, I can 
see. 



56 THE pipe; OF PEACE 

Robert {after another pause) : Stephen, I 
think I'm the most unhappy man in the to^Arn. 

Stephen : You ! The first working man to be 
made Mayor ; the best, the most respected they 
ever had. 

Robert : I've done my best. I think they 
know that. 

Stephen : And a good best, too. 

Robert : No, Stephen. What I've done's 
made no difference. Nothing will make any 
difference, till a great change comes ; till ' Do to 
others as you have a right to expect they should 
do to you ' is the common standard of life. With- 
out good- will there's no hope. 

Stephen : 1 was afraid. I understand. 

Robert : You understand. But how many 
do? 

Stephen : So few get any chance of under- 
standing. They're never told. Men, some of 
them just enthusiasts without the vision to see 
v/here extravagance leads . . . some, vicious, 
with axes to grind, are in every comer of the 
country. Everybody hears them, but the men 
who have a real grip of the matter, and see to the 
heart of it, never speak at all, except in learned 
journals that the man in the street never hears of. 

Robert : I know. When I was Mayor I did 
what I could to induce the working man to take 
an intelligent interest, and do his share, in the 
business of the town ; just as at the works I have 
done all I could to get the men to organize and 
control their departments. 1 helj^ed them on to 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 57 

the Council. I sent some of them to see at first 
hand the best and most advanced examples of 
civic government, in England, and abroad. It 
led nowhere. They're inflamed with tales, some 
true, some grossly exaggerated, of class injustice 
in the past. They will not realize that you can't 
undo the past, that the best that can be done is to 
mend and amend, and build on what can't be 
moved. Their attempts at control are, often, 
mere declarations of class war over again. It is 
so in the town affairs ; it is so at the works. They 
will not see that the good of the community is the 
good of every section of the community. The 
men 1 helped into power are the cause of the 
trouble in the works to-day. 

Stephen : It's the bicycle over again. ROBERT 
loo\s a question. I've always been of opinion 
that the greatest social influence of last century 
was the invention of the bicycle, especially in 
districts outside the great commercial centres. 
Fifty years ago it v/as an event for men and 
women in villages and small towns to go ten miles 
from their own front door. The bicycle came. 
Folk began to travel twenty, thirty, fifty miles. 
Foreigners, as they used to call them where 1 was 
bred, from forty, fifty miles became more and 
more frequent visitors. Before, a man hardly 
ever looked for a wife who hadn't been bom with- 
in sight, on a clear day, of his father's home. 
Now they began to marry girls who had been 
brought up in different environment, with little, 
queer differences in their views of life. Tradi- 



58 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

tions were interchanged, and a wider outlook 
followed. But it was a slow, slow process. 
They only realized, at first, the pleasure of scorch- 
ing on the turnpike road, and seeing how many 
miles they could cover. It was a long time before 
they realized that the best of the new thing they 
had come by was the chance to see the beauty of 
the country, and to know their neighbours better. 

Robert : Yes, that's true. Smiling. 1 remem- 
ber father's first excursion on a fifty -two inch 
wheel, and the yarns he told us about it all. 

Stephen : The same thing's happening over 
again in a different way. The working man has 
access to power that thirty years ago only came 
to rare exceptions. But it's the bicycle over again. 
They're only enjoying the excitement, seeing how 
far they can go; not realizing the significance, 
much less the responsibility. 

Alan and Judy come in. 

Robert : How is Mrs. Patten? Did you see 
her, Alan? 

Alan : Yes . . . for a moment . . . the last. 

Robert : She's dead? Alan nods. It must 
have been very sudden. What was it? 

Alan ; Starvation. He sits at the bacl^ oj the 
table deeply moved. 

Judy : She starved herself to feed her sick 
child. The horror of it all. She is standing at 
the left end of the table. 

Alan : Homes sold up ! Women and chil- 
dren starving ! 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 59 

Robert : And all . . . because masters are 
obstinate, and men wrangle for what they've no 
right to expect. I've worked for Labour all my 
life. I'm face to face with fact. With here and 
there exceptions Labour's not yet . . . fit . . . 
for authority. And Labour's best friends know 
it. TTiat's the tragedy. 

The Curtain Falls. 



ACT III. 



The scene is the same as in the last act. TTiere 
are some changes, such as five years may have 
brought about. There are some different books 
in the bookshelf ; there are two pictures which 
were not there before, one on each side of the 
bookcase. Other pictures are the same. Tlie 
chairs are differently arranged ; there are eirm 
chairs above and below the fireplace as before. 
There are chairs at each end of the table, and 
three at the back. 

It is May 24th, Empire Day, in 1924. 

Alan is sitting in the arm chair above the fire- 
place, reading a newspaper. 

Doctor Wells comes in. He looks older, 
but is still an active man. 

Alan : Have you been to the concert? 



60 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Dr. W. : Couldn't . . . had a troublesome 
case. 

Alan : I couldn't go either. Judy's a bit tired 
. . . the journey yesterday. 

Dr. W. : And you, too . . . after last night's 
shindy. You had a near shave. He sits in arm 
chair below fireplace. 

Alan : Coppock's exasperating. The men 
were furious. In ten minutes he'd have been in 
the canal. 

Dr. W. : He was a fool to come here again, 
after what happened two years ago. Where is 
he now? 

Alan : Here. Upstairs. Robert brought him 
here. He had to promise to keep out of sight till 
dark, and catch the night train to London. 

Dr. W. : He'll find kindred spirits there. 

Alan (smiling) : Oh, yes. There's a good 
many in my parish. And they're fine chaps . . . 
some of them. 

Dr. W. : They're a damned nuisance, and a 
mischief to the community. 

Alan : I know. But their day's gone by. 
They don't count for so much now. 

Alice comes in. She is nervous, and excited. 

Alice : Good evening. 

Dr. W. : Good evening, my dear. 

Alan : Good evening, Alice. He goes to her 
and shades hands. 

Alice : I want to find Tom Coppock. Pause. 
Do you know where he is? There is no answer; 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 6\ 

she looks jrom one to the other. Some people 
say he's gone away . . . some say he's hiding 
here. I can't find Robert. Do you know, Alan? 

Alan {he is standing in front oj the chair right 
oj the table; she is still near him. He speaks 
very quietly, and Very kindly) : Why do you 
want to know, AJice? 

Alice : 1 want to see him. They treated him 
shamefully last night. She sits in chair lejt of 
table. 

Alan : They were angry, and people generally 
do foolish things when they are angry. He sits 
right oj table. 

Dr. W. : He couldn't expect anything else. 

Alice : Why not ? He helped the men years 
ago. Why should they turn on him now? 

Dr. W. : They turned on him when they found 
him out. 

Alice : You're as bad as the men, Doctor. 
You're all against him . . . just because he's 
got more brains. 

Dr. W. (smiling) : He's a mischievous fellow, 
Alice. You needn't waste your sympathy on 
him. 

Alice (hotly) : 1 admire him. 

Alan (ajter a pause ; he looks at her) : Do you 
know why he left the town, suddenly, two years 
ago? 

Alice : No. Not the truth. I don't think 
anybody knew . . . except, perhaps, Robert, 
and two or three. I . . . think Cowley knew,. 



62 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

but he won't talk about him. He gets angry, if 
I ask about Tom. 

Dr. W. : You ought to know, my dear. Tell 
her, Alan. 

Alan : Tom got into trouble at Liverpool. 
There was a very noisy meeting there. It led to 
his belongings being seized, and examined. 

Dr. W. : Then the whole story came out . . . 
though it was weeks before we heard the truth of 
it. 

Alice : What was the truth ? 

Alan : Tom was one of an organized party, 
working in all parts of the country. It wasn't 
Labour . . . the working man in England . . . 
they cared about. What they wanted was to up- 
set the whole social system of the country. 

Dr. W. : And plunder and murder were their 
acknowledged weapons. The funds were sup- 
plied by the most desperate groups in Europe. 

Alice {she turns to face the DOCTOR and Alan 
with her elbows on the table) : I don't believe a 
word of it. 

Alan : It's true, Alice, though, to do Tom 
justice, I don't think he quite realized the tools he 
was handling, or the source of the money he was 
paid with. 

Dr. W. : He ought to have known. With a 
•grain of common sense, he would. 

Alice : He had to take risks. He was never 
afraid of a fight. 

Alan : Our men were never afraid of a fight, 
Alice, an honest fight for the rights of Labour; 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 63 

they've shown that more than once, and every- 
body respects them for it. But that's a very dif- 
ferent thing. There was a storm of indignation 
when the men found themselves associated with 
a crazy attempt at revolution. 

Dr. W. : If Coppock hadn't made tracks the 
night the news came through, he'd have been 
lucky to get off with his life. 

Alice is distressed and perplexed. She buries 
her face in her hands and there is a stifled sob. 

At this moment CoWLEY comes in. ALICE 
doesn't see him. He goes up left. Nobody 
takes any notice of him. There has been no 
sound at his entrance, or as he goes up to the 
back. 

Alice : What proof was there that . . . Tom 
knew. Even if what you say ... or part of it 
... is true, I'm not going to turn against him. 
I want to find him and tell him so. 

Alan : Alice, 1 can't tell you all 1 know. In 
my work in London, 1 get strange confidences, 
sometimes. But you can take my word for it. 
You heard what the Doctor said. He doesn't 
know the worst. 

Alice {defiant, and a little hysterical} : 1 don't 
care. 1 want proof. Tom's down, and the men 
want to kick him. Scornjully. It's just because 
he's got more brains, and better looks than they 
have. 

Cowley (struggling with passion, which he 
completely masters, he comes down on the left of 



64 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Alice) : Alice, my girl, I think . . . Alan 
wouldn't deceive you. He wouldn't say what 
he did, if he didn't know it was true. At the 

sound of Cowley's voice, Alice has looked 
round. She is startled, and an impulse to cry out 
ends in a stifled ' Oh/ Who . . . who's with 
the children, Alice? They're so little. 1 don't 
like them to be left. He has been very gentle and 
tender; he holds out his hand. I'm going home. 
Will you come? 

Alice : I ... 1 didn't see you, Cowley. 
She goes to him. She is a little hysterical, hut 
controls herself, and speaks quietly. Is it true, 
Cowley? Did they really plan to ... do the 
horrible things they say . . . some of them ? 
Cowley doesn't answer; she turns to Alan. 

Alan : Yes, Alice, it's true. I'm sorry, but 
it is. 

Alice {she is convinced, and is stupified by the 
conviction) : Cowley, 1 . . . I've . . . been . . . 
Yes . . . yes, Cowley, the children. I didn't 
know it was so late. I'll come with you. Good 
night. Doctor. Good night, Alan. 

Alan : Good night, Alice. 

Dr. W. : Good night, my dear. 

Cowley and Alice go out. 

Alan {he goes back, io ^^^ ^^^^ chair above the 
fireplace, and sits. After a pause) : I think she 
understands at last. Cowley's splendid. 

Dr. W. : Always was. I brought him into the 
world, Alan. I'm very fond of Cowley. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 65 

Robert and Tom come in. They are heard 
speaking before they are seen. 

Robert (as they come in) : Did they get you 
some supper? 

Tom : Yes . . . thank you. 

Robert : Sorry I couldn't be in. I had to go 
to the concert. It's an institution with us on 
Empire Day. Pause. Can you hear them? 
They hsten for a few moments to the choir sing- 
ing in the hall near by. They are looking out as 
through a window in the fourth wall. It is not 
necessary for the audience to hear the singing. 
We've got a fine chojr now. He smiles, remem- 
bering. You were here on Empire Day in twenty- 
two. 

Tom : Yes, that's right. 

Dr. W. (with a little grunt) : Hm. At the end 
the band played ' The King.' When the people 
stood up, and joined in, you, and a few near you, 
sat tight, and scowled. 

Robert (laughing) : 1 didn't remember that. 
He goes round the right end of the table, and sits 
behind it in the centre chair. 

Tom : Why not? If you've got no use for 
Kings. He sits at the right of the table. 

Dr. W. : They'll play ' The King ' again to- 
night ; and every man Jack will stand up and join 
in. 

Tom : Let 'em, if they like all the humbug of 
Courts . . . with millions wasted that might 
feed starving men. 



66 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Dr. W. : That's bosh, and you know it. Re- 
publics can spend as much as any on State func- 
tions. And they do it, because they know it 
pays. And you know quite well that if they 
didn't spend one penny on the amenities of the 
Court, and Government hospitality, the money 
saved could make no difference to starving men. 

Robert : You know it wouldn't, Tom. 

Tom : Perhaps not . . . just a drop in the 
ocean . . . that's true. 

Robert : You know as well as I do that the 
remedy for starvation is not more money spent on 
unemployment pay, but peace and good-will in 
the labour world, and efficiency amongst those 
who get left without work. There wouldn't be 
much unemployment then. 

Tom : I daresay there's something in that. 

Dr. W. : There's everything in it. The fact 
is I'm beginning to think you don't believe your- 
self in all you say. 

Robert (laughing at Tom very lightly and 
good-humouredly) : Not half of it, eh, Tom? 

Tom {also smiling) : You're a sport, Robert. 
I don't mind telling you I'm a bit fed up. When 
I took on this job I thought it was a clean straight 
thing, a genuine move by working men to get 
what's just. The first time I found out what the 
game really was, and where the money came 
from, it shook me pretty badly. My first thought 
was to clear out. But, I tell you, it's a nasty 
net to get tangled in, and they've got ways to keep 
you there. I had to stick it, or . . . it's no use 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 67 

going into that. Last night I tried . . . well, 
they wouldn't hear me, or . . . But it's no odds 
any way. 

Dr. W. : For all your doubts, you're as pat as 
ever with the old stock remedies to mend a sick 
world ; and the old stock catch words. 

Tom (laughing a little) : Once you get the trick 
o' the lingo, start talking, and it comes of itself ; 
you can't help yourself . . . you can't get out of 
the way of it. The DOCTOR, ROBERT and Alan 
laugh a little very pleasantly. ToM looks jrom 
one to the other. Here, look here ! Don't you 
make any mistake . . . don't you think 1 mean 
. . . more than I do. 

Alan : At any rate, you can give some good 
advice to your friends. Tell them to confine their 
activities to their own countries, and send no more 
emissaries here. They'll get rough-handled if 
they're caught. And you can tell them that the 
workers of England are loyal to the monarchy 
because they're very sure of a great truth. The 
best form of government for any country is the 
form that inspires general confidence, and recog- 
nition of right authority. For different countries, 
different customs. For England it's constitu- 
tional monarchy. 

Dr. W. : And that means true democracy. 

Tom : It keeps capital safe, anyway ; and that's 
the cause of all the trouble. 

Robert : You're wrong, Tom. True demo- 
cracy is the death of class tyranny . . . whatever 
class. 



68 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Alan : Tell your friends something else. We 
don't think quite the same of capital as you do, or 
as some here did ten years ago. Here at the 
works all the men and women over twenty can be 
capitalists themselves, if they like. A fair part 
of the profits every year, with an agreed contribu- 
tion by the workers, is turned into new capital ; 
and, if they want to, and fulfil the conditions, 
they can all be shareholders. 

Tom {smiling) : The old trick. Set the men 
looking for dividends, and they'll be fooled into 
cutting their own wages to swell the profits. 

Dr. W. : My friend, you're out of date . . . 
years behind the times. Your way of thinking's 
all very well where the savage tyranny of so- 
called equality makes slaves of everybody but 
the men in power. It won't do here. 

Robert : That's so, Tom. A trade union to- 
day isn't what it was in nineteen-fourteen, or in 
nineteen-nineteen. It's a different thing, and a 
better thing. Every trades unionist to-day knows 
it depends on himself to rise to a better job, 
because every member is a competent workman. 

Tom : It's the incompetent want protection 
most. 

Robert : That's true, and they get it in a dif- 
ferent way. But the proportion of unemploy- 
ment which in many cases . . . God forbid I 
should say all . . . is the result of incompetence, 
is as one to five to what it was in nineteen-four- 
teen, ten years ago ; and nearer one to ten to what 
it was in twenty-one, three years ago. You can't 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 69 

altogether ignore statistics . . . that's one of the 
things you learn on the platform. 

Dr. W. (chuckling) : They explain 'em away ; 
and they're very artful at the job. 

Alan : We'll look after the incompetent, if it 
isn't their own fault. 

Robert : But the idler no longer gets the same 
advantage as the honest worker and the skilled. 

Tom : So you say. 

Robert : How long have you been away ? 

Tom : Two years . . . about. 

Robert : More's happened than you realize in 
two years. In the best controlled unions to-day 
no man is admitted to full membership till he has 
shown he can do a fair day's work. And if he 
does the work, the union sees he gets a fair day's 
wage. It's the same with the women, of course. 
There's a corresponding rule in all the best em- 
ployers' associations. They won't have a man 
who doesn't understand his trade, and deal 
honestly by all, his men as well as his fellow em- 
ployers. And there isn't a strike or a lock-out 
every time there's a difference. We don't keep 
the world waiting while we stand off and bicker. 
We have realized the full advantage of arbitration, 
properly safeguarded. And we want your 
friends to come to their senses, to make progress, 
and profit by it, as we have. 

Tom : Don't worry about my friends. We see 
what's right, and what's wrong, and we go for it. 

Robert : That's just what none of us can do. 
No man can see right and wrong quite clearly 



70 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

when his own interest's involved. We've learnt 
that, too. There's a custom, not general as yet, 
but likely to be so before long, that has helped a 
lot. If a union has a quarrel that may lead to a 
strike, three other unions v/ith entirely different 
interests debate it at a club meeting. They take 
a vote, and the result is published. 

Tom : Interference ; they should mind their 
own business. 

Robert : No. No union is in any sense bound 
by the result ; but it has developed a great sense 
of justice. It is welcomed as an expression of 
disinterested opinion. 

Cowley comes in. He is in a white-hot pas- 
sion, and goes straight to ToM. He has to make 
a great effort to control himself. 

Cowley (quietly, but in stern anger) : You sent 
a letter to Arthur Stanley. Tom lool^s up, puz- 
zled, hut has no chance to speak' CoWLEY goes 
straight on. When's he going, Robert? He 
goes to the lower left end oj the table. 

Robert : Eleven-forty from the junction. 

Cowley : Right. There's three of us going 
Virith you, Coppock ; and, if you speak to meoi or 
woman on the way, by God, you won't forget to- 
night. 

Tom (sullenly) : What have 1 done now? 

Cowley (speaking quietly, in intense anger, 
but very clearly and calmly) : It took years to 
realize what you, and others like you, have done. 
You took away men's reason, and started them 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 71 

on a mad f 001*8 quest. The unions were fighting 
for the men, and you set them shouting for what 
they couldn't get, and that beat 'em. They took 
yeeirs to recover their strength. I was one of the 
damned fools who listened to you once. I know- 
better now. You stirred up class hatred and dis- 
trust, and, while it lasted, both sides went under. 
We're wiser now. Clear out of this to-night, and 
don't come back . . .or, next time, we'll set 
about you in earnest. 

Alan : He's going, Cowley. There's no need 
for violence. 

Cowley : You don't know, Alan. They're 
trying to get at Arthur Stanley. They've offered 
him big money to go to Liverpool. They know 
the boy's wild in thought, and thinks it fine 
to make himself a martyr for what he calls * the 
cause.' Damn you ! The boy isn't twenty, and 
when his mind's not muddled by will-o'-the- 
wisps you dangle before him he's the best and 
straightest lad among us. You know that, 
Robert ... so does Alice. They sent him a 
letter. Here it is. He ta\es an envelope from 
his pocl^et, and jrom it a letter torn in fragments. 
He throws them in Tom's face. ToM puts his 
hand on the hack, oj his chair, about to rise in a 
great passion, Alan comes to him, and puts 
his hand firmly on his arm. ToM controls him- 
self, and sits still, looking fiercely at CoWLEY. 
Alan goes hack to his chair. If Alice and 1 
hadn't seen Arthur to-night, he'd have gone ; 
and, likely as not, got shot in a street brawl before 



72 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

the year's out. But we'll leave nothing to 
chance. You don't get at him again. You 
don't go out of my sight till the train leaves the 
station. 

Tom : You've lost your temper, Cowley ; and 
when a man loses his temper, it's waste o' words 
to reason with him. You can believe me or not, 
as you like. I don't care which. I've never 
seen Arthur Stanley. 1 know nothing about 
him. They've got their own ways of finding new 
men. 

Cowley : They knew you were here . . . they 
sent him the letter the same day. 

Tom {very firmly) : The letter's nothing to do 
with me, 1 tell you, or with my being here. They 
don't know at head-quarters where I am. 

Cowley (losing control) : A lie ! The boy was 
trying to find you. 

Tom [rising; fiercely) : 1 know nothing about 
it, I tell you. CoWLEY comes to him in a threa- 
tening attitude; they face each other, and, for a 
jew moments, they look, lik^ coming to blows. 

Alan {gently, hut very firmly) : Cowley, sit 
down. After a moment CowLEY does so reluc- 
tantly. He sits in chair behind table on ROBERT'S 
left. Sit down, Tom. After a pause, ToM sits 
at the left end of the table. No good quarrelling. 
Tom's done many things, but 1 never doubted his 
word. Tom says he doesn't know Arthur . . . 
or anything about it. 

Robert : That's good enough for me. 



THE PIPE OF PEACE 73 

Tom {after looking * Thanks ' to ROBERT.): 
Never heard of him. He's nothing to me . . . 
except . . . well. He seems a good sort . . . 
and, you're right. He'd better stop at home. 

Alan (smiling) : You see. He sits in chair 
right oj table. He is filling his pipe. Give up 
your visionary friends, Tom, and put your influ- 
ence in the scale of progress . . . and order. 

Robert : He could do a lot for the men. 

Dr. W. : It's a wise saying 'Old enemies make 
good friends.' I've heard Bob say so scores of 
times. He comes and sits behind table, right oj 
Robert. He is filling his pipe. After a 
moment's pause; to ToM. Alan comes from 
London . . . and a queer comer of London, at 
that. He sees a good deal of your lot. He has 
passed his pouch to ROBERT, who looks at the 
tobacco, hesitates, then fills his pipe. 

Robert (to Tom) : It's good advice he's giving 
you. 

Dr. W. (watching RoBERT; with a little 
chortle) : Ha . . .ha. ROBERT catches his eye, 
smiles, and hands back ^^^ pouch. The DOCTOR 
hands it to CowLEY, who smells it, and, without 
a movement of his eye or head, hands it back to 
the Doctor, who smiles. Tom has been watch- 
ing this, and, after a moment's hesitation, takes a 
tobacco box from his pocket, and hands it to 
Cowley. Cowley hesitates a moment, then 
tak^s it and fills his pipe. ToM takes a pipe 
already half filled from his pocket. 



74 THE PIPE OF PEACE 

Cowley {as he hands back the box; a little 
shyly) : Sorry, Tom. ToM and CoWLEY light 
up. The others have already done so. All are 
smoking. 

Tom {looking round; laughing lightly) : Well, 
Vm . . . 

Dr. W. {blowing out a column oj smoke) : ' I 
have known , . . foiir-and-twenty leaders of 
revolt.' 

Alan and Robert smile. Tom takes it quite 
good-humouredly. CoWLEY is steadily smoking. 

Tom (he looks at his watch) : Well, good luck ! 
You won't see me for a time. Cowley, look after 
Arthur Stanley. Looking from CoWLEY to 
Robert. So it seems you're getting what you 
want , . . your own way. I dare say that's 
best. But . . . when things are straight all 
round . . . may be, you'll find we helped . . . 
a little. 

The Curtain Falls. 



tJEP 1 192J 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



,1 !l ill h; III 
014 676 909 3 



